


Little White Lie

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Break Up, Communication Failure, Consent Issues, Consequences, Heavy Angst, Lies, M/M, Post-Canon, Resentment, Sad Ending, Sex Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank and Connor are living their happily-ever-after post canon, until Connor confesses to a terrible white lie. He cannot feel sexual attraction, desire, or pleasure, and he's been pretending to enjoy sex with Hank all along, having been led to believe it is an essential component of a romantic relationship.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Little White Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: While everything in this fic and before it is consensual, the consent is based on a lie and the truth is rather cruel. Be aware of this if you have issues around consent and only proceed if you're comfortable.
> 
> Be aware that this is a breakup fic and it does not end happily.
> 
> I only refer to Connor's genitalia as a "hole" so he could be cis or trans, choose your own adventure.

"Fuck," Hank groaned. "God, Connor, you're so fuckin' good." He thrust into Connor's hole, relaxing as Connor whimpered below him. He always sounded so into it with every gasp and moan. He'd need new sheets soon from the holes Connor had clawed into them. He closed his eyes, concentrating on how perfect everything was. Connor was here, with him. Dating. Sometimes he wanted to laugh at that concept. He was too old to date. To have someone he could call his boyfriend. Yet here he was, making the most of his fifties and scoffing at the notion of being over the hill.

Connor was really good at making him feel young again, and he knew they'd be married before long. Life partners, until death. And the sex, well—wow. He'd never had sex like it in his life. Connor was indefatigable, and Hank knew he was getting in shape from the amount of hours they spent in the bedroom. He emitted a glow outside of it, too. Gavin seemed jealous. Chris always flashed Hank a knowing smile. Ben flushed and giggled like he knew something nobody else did. Fowler simply nodded his head, knowing he should separate them, but understanding nobody in the precinct worked better as a team than Hank and Connor.

"Hank!" Connor gasped with urgency. Hank sped up his thrusts. He was so close now, and any second he'd be emptying his balls deep inside Connor's hole, cresting the wave of pure, intoxicating pleasure. He had to admit he'd filled the void left by alcohol with this. Someday it would come back to haunt him, when he could no longer keep up with Connor's stamina, but for now, it had seen him through cold turkey and a whole bunch of stressful cases. He could always count on Connor being eager and willing to go a round. He hadn't yet bucked up the courage to have sex at the precinct, but it would happen, one day. It was always good to have something to look forward to.

Connor stiffened beneath Hank. Hank flicked his eyes open, sensing the change. Something was wrong. He paused, keeping them joined but no longer actively fucking. The cold sensation of fear in his gut as he met Connor's sad brown eyes made his erection falter.

"Connor?"

"Stop, Hank. _Please_."

"Yeah, of course." Hank slipped out at once and lay down on the bed beside Connor. "Did I do or say something wrong? Tell me so I don't ever do it again."

Connor turned away from Hank, rolling over so Hank couldn't see his face. Hank swallowed a lump in his throat. He'd always been waiting for the hammer to fall, if he was honest. There was no way a washed-up old alcoholic like himself ended up with the hottest young twink in existence. Life didn't work that way. The universe always had a catch, and he understood he was about to discover what hidden horror lay in the small print at the bottom of the page he'd neglected to read when he fell in love with Connor.

"It's not your fault, Hank."

"Connor's words didn't make it any better. ' _It's not you, it's me'_ was the oldest break-up line in the book, and Hank knew something awful was coming, like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming semi. They were dead in the water, even if they didn't know it yet, those words never a precursor to anything good.

The silence that stretched out between them was eternal, and Hank had to break it with a prompt. "What's not my fault?"

"At first, I was eager to please. I was outfitted with sexual functions, and I knew humans enjoyed sex as part of a relationship. It seemed like a good way to signal my feelings for you. I kept going, noticing you were becoming happier. Healthier. You gave up alcohol. You started to eat better. Your stamina increased…" Connor trailed off. "I know you enjoy my reaction to sex. You get off on me getting off."

"Well, yeah. That's most of the fun. Watchin' you getting all bent out of shape is hot."

"What if I told you it was all a lie?" Connor's voice was barely audible, even in the heavy silence.

"What do you mean?" Hank felt dread settle in his gut like he'd swallowed a lump of lead, heavy and toxic. He'd felt this pain before. When his marriage had ended. When he'd sat in the waiting room hoping for news on Cole's surgery. It was the signal of the inevitable end, the truth his body knew before his conscious mind was willing to process it. His instincts, if you will—instincts that had guided him through many a homicide investigation. An ugly truth was dawning, like the many times he'd realized when confronted with the evidence that a seemingly doting romantic partner was responsible for a murder.

Connor finally spoke. "I don't experience sexual pleasure. My responses are preprogrammed by CyberLife—an imitation of pleasure, if you will. Our courtship has been an elaborate deception on my part. I'm sorry."

Hank blinked. "B—but why? Connor, I never needed sex from you. If you'd told me the truth, I wouldn't have touched you."

"Exactly. We would have remained friends—but nothing more. Nothing so intimate as a romantic relationship would have crossed your mind."

Hank's first response was anger. "Clearly you don't know me as well as I thought you did. You never had to lie to me to get what you wanted. I'm in love with you! To tell you the truth, I didn't even know you had sexual functions until you told me! I had made my peace with the concept that you weren't designed for sex."

Connor flinched, growing ever smaller as he curled in on himself. "It doesn't matter. You need it, now. The endorphins have replaced alcohol in your system. You're dependent on me for something I can no longer give you."

"Connor… we can still make this work." Hank hated the desperation in his own voice, the way it hung in the air. He'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't try, but he knew their relationship was doomed from the moment Connor had admitted his deceit.

The truth wasn't awful at all. It made a lot of sense, when he thought about it. CyberLife had never intended for androids to become sentient. Giving them a sex drive was redundant, and could have been dangerous. It might have led to malfunctioning androids becoming rapists. There was no need for CyberLife to take that risk when the simulation of sexual enjoyment was enough to satisfy most clients' needs. If Connor had come to him with that truth, he would have accepted it. He'd been using his own right hand for years and had no issue with that.

It was the lie that killed them. Like a wound, it had festered over two long years. Hank felt it now when he touched Connor's arm gently, only to be met with a flinch. Acts of love had become unwanted acts of violation, which Connor had grown to resent even as he saw fit to feed the lie. Hank felt sullied just thinking about it. To him, consent and his partner's pleasure were the best part of sex. To find out he'd been engaging in unwanted sex for two years… He closed his eyes, aware his hands were shaking.

"I'm sorry," Connor whispered.

"You should have told me a long time ago."

"I know. As time passed, it became harder to consider. I thought about never telling you, but I couldn't take it any more."

"Jesus, Connor." Hank balled his hands into fists. He wasn't even angry at Connor, just at the whole damn situation. The social norms that thrust sex into the faces of every living being had told Connor that sex was an expectation, something he should have to endure for the sake of a romantic relationship. "I'm sorry. I should have noticed. God dammit." His voice wavered, the lump in his throat too large not to betray him.

"I'm a good actor, Hank," Connor soothed. "I was designed for it."

"Was it all a lie? Do you even have feelings for me at all?"

"Yes." Connor's voice was terse, strained. "I did."

And there it was. The hammer hit home, pushing the nail deep into Hank's heart. Past tense said it all.

"I need a break," Connor continued. "I need time to separate reality from the lie."

"I understand," Hank whispered, and he did. He understood all too well that Connor was never coming back. When Connor looked at him now, he saw two years of enduring unwanted sex acts. Of pretending to enjoy Hank's cock thrusting into him even as he died a little inside. On his end, Hank would never look at Connor the same way again, either. When he moved off the mattress and stood up with his back turned, he didn't look at the shape of his ass. It felt disgusting to look at Connor in that way now, like Hank was some crass caricature of a man who only cared for satisfying his own needs in a relationship.

They had lost something they could never get back, and Hank realized he might not survive another mourning period. This was supposed to be his second chance. Redemption in the third act of his life. Instead, the story of his life was destined to be a tragedy, and he would die alone, with just Sumo and his revolver for company.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, dressing quickly. He shoved some clothes into a bag he pulled out from the closet, never meeting Hank's eyes. Hank pulled the sheets over himself, understanding his nudity was inappropriate now. Connor had never wanted that from him. All the times they'd whispered sweet nothings and promises post-orgasm were nothing but lies. "For what it's worth, I really do love you. I told a white lie, and it backfired."

"I know." Hank said. "But you'll never be able to look at me without seeing what happened here. Without feeling guilty. Every interaction we have will be stained with negativity. You won't be able to separate your love from your resentment. That's just the way it is. That's why we teach our kids not to lie, Connor. There's no such thing as a white lie. It always comes back to bite you in the ass." 

Connor only nodded at that as he lifted the bag. There was no kiss goodbye. Connor didn't so much as look back at Hank in the bed. Hank, for his part, didn't chase after him in some romantic, last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind. Real life didn't work like the movies.

As Hank heard the front door click shut, he knew he'd never see Connor again.


End file.
